


Bed of Nails

by wllw



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Blood, Gunplay, Knifeplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 12:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10854447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wllw/pseuds/wllw
Summary: Frustrated by his inability to turn on his energy sword, Felix compensates by turning on his regular one.





	Bed of Nails

It was past midnight in whatever artificial day-night cycle the Tartarus kept, high in its orbit above Chorus, and Locus was already asleep by the time Felix crept into his borrowed quarters. The slide of the automatic door didn't wake him, and neither did Felix's quiet, guarded steps on the metal floor.

Sloppy, really. Letting his guard down like that. Trusting the door lock to keep intruders out, unaware of the override codes in Captain Whatsisname's computer.

Anyone could walk right in. Slide a knife right through his throat.

Felix took a moment to look his sleeping partner over. He'd stripped down to his undersuit — _such_ a shame the armor was so uncomfortable to sleep in — but he'd kept his helmet on, just a jumble of vaguely threatening geometric shapes and shadows under the low light of the bedroom. He was lying on his back, arms on his chest, utterly still except for his slow, deep breaths.

Boring. Felix had been on edge ever since Fishhead's fuck-up, that familiar restlessness gripping his chest and his jaw and his fingers, keeping him unable to stand still, and the least his partner could do was distract him from it.

In one smooth movement, Felix straddled him.

It was so much fun to feel Locus wake up and immediately go tense between Felix's thighs, his breath hitching in a way he'd never want anyone to notice.

Locus had always been quick, surprisingly so for a man his bulk, but Felix was quicker. He had a knife pressed against Locus' throat, right along that weak seam in the undersuit they both knew was there, just as he felt the cold hard metal of Locus' gun against his forehead, and yeah, okay, this was good. Better. With his heartbeat hammering in his ears, with his focus narrowed down to the firmness of the knife in his palm and the pressure of metal on his skin, Felix felt as if he could breathe again. His hand barely even trembled now.

"Wakey wakey, partner," he said, low and threatening.

"What do you want?" Locus asked, and Felix could hear that delightful mix of confusion and surprise in his voice, even as Locus fought to catch his breath and keep himself under control.

Oh, this was fucking great.

"Just wanted to talk. I'm still allowed to do that, right? Talk to my own damn partner?" Locus made a disbelieving noise, but Felix carried on. "Look, I'm really thinking we should just space Sharkdick. Maybe send Price along with him."

"I told you before, Felix. He's—"

"If you call him 'partner' again I'll fucking stab you," Felix snapped, that ugly, restless feeling rising up in his gut once more. "I fucking swear I'm gonna do it."

"—a valuable asset. We're not going to get rid of him while he still has his uses."

" _What_ uses? He's a failure, Locus! It's his fault we can't use the goddamn sword!" He felt his hands begin to tremble again, and he ignored it. "What the hell happened to not working with unreliable allies? Don't tell me you're going soft, _partner_."

That got a reaction. A growl, and Locus shoved the gun harder into Felix's forehead. From this angle, Felix couldn't see if he had his finger on the trigger.

"Of course not."

Felix had taken off his armor before coming here, feeling itchy and trapped inside the stifling metal, and he was glad for it now, because with only their undersuits in the way he could feel every movement, every breath, the tension running through Locus' muscles.

"Bullshit," Felix said, leaning forward into the sharp pressure of the pistol. "Tell me what the fuck happened to dealing with unreliable partners?"

"Hm. I wonder."

There was a lilt in Locus' voice then that Felix couldn't quite place, and it made something white hot and painful claw at his chest.

"Prove it," he snarled, pressing his knife harder against the seam of Locus' undersuit. "Prove you're not going _soft_."

It was a terrible line, punctuated with a roll of his hips, but it was clear from the way Locus stiffened that he'd gotten the point, so it served its purpose. Because fuck this conversation, fuck everything, Felix just wanted to get this goddamn itchy feeling out of him and he knew the quickest way to do it.

"Felix, it's late. We should be resting."

"Screw that. I'm bored and I can't sleep. Entertain me."

" _Felix_ ," Locus said again, a warning in his tone, and moved his gun to press painfully against Felix's cheekbone and oh, was this how the asshole was gonna play it?

Fine. He could work with that.

Tilting his head, Felix ran his tongue along the length of the gun. The taste of it filled his mouth, cold and bitter, but it was worth it for the way Locus' breath hitched.

"What are you doing?" Locus demanded, but even his forcefulness couldn't hide the uncertainly in his voice.

"Getting you in the mood." Felix shifted a little and flicked his tongue along the trigger guard. "Seems like the sort of thing that gets you going."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Another swipe of his tongue along the barrel, slower, more provocative this time, and he ended with a long, sloppy kiss right on the tip. He felt Locus' normally unshakable grip waver, and Felix couldn't see his eyes but from the tilt of his helmet it was clear he was watching Felix's tongue, transfixed. Oh, this was just _too_ good.

"Doing it for you?" Felix asked, and chuckled when Locus failed to answer.

He swirled his tongue around the tip of the barrel and shifted his legs to press his knees right up against the sides of Locus' chest so he could feel every breath against him. Then slowly, carefully, he began to ease the gun into his mouth. It was strange and uncomfortable; his teeth clicked against the metal, the edges of the gun dug into his palate, and Jesus Christ was the taste horrible, but he swallowed down the urge to gag. Locus had gone very still underneath him, his breathing quiet, and it made something inside Felix burn.

It made him suck down on the barrel, move his head to take in more of the length even though his jaw ached, and he watched Locus' helmet all the while. It stared up at him, cold and unforgiving as always, and how many people had died with that green X as the last thing they saw? His pulse quickened at the thought, and he didn't even care whether Locus' finger was on the trigger anymore, because what did it matter? Locus would never pull it. Not with Felix there, not if Felix didn't tell him to. They needed each other, after all. It made Felix laugh a little, low and breathy, his throat straining around the metal.

Locus growled at that and shoved the gun a fraction of an inch deeper. Felix did gag this time, choking on the bitter taste, and okay, was that a fucking challenge? He could take it. He pushed forward until the hardness of the barrel was poking painfully at the back of his throat, and Locus actually fucking gasped as if Felix's mouth had been wrapped around his cock instead of his gun. Fucking _amazing_.

Felix pulled away, coughed a little, and then began to laugh in earnest.

" _Wow_. Holy shit, look at you. I bet you get hard whenever you field strip your shotgun, am I right?"

"Of course not," Locus said, even though he sounded like he was catching his breath. "I just enjoy it when your mouth's too full to talk."

"Yeah, sure. You keep telling yourself that, buddy."

Slowly, Felix moved his free hand to wrap around Locus'. His grip on the gun had gone slack, and he let Felix move his arm away, twist his wrist so the gun fell onto the mattress beside them.

Felix swallowed.

Yeah. This was nice. Sure, it was fun to get Locus to play rough and fight each other every step of the way, but god, there was something so damn gratifying about making his partner yield to him like this, all quiet and pliable.

"So," Felix said, grinding his hips down into Locus' and grinning when Locus rose up to meet him. "Changed your mind yet?"

"Hmph. Fine. Just be quick about it."

He said that in that bored dismissive tone of his as if he wasn't already hard, as if he didn't want it just as much as Felix did, and the fire began to rise up in Felix's gut again.

"Oh? Don't think you can last that long?"

Locus ignored the provocation. Asshole. Well, fine, Felix knew how to get under his skin. Quick as a flash, he darted his free hand to hook his fingers under Locus' helmet and when Locus instinctively tried to recoil Felix pressed him down with the blade still at his throat.

"Felix—"

"Shhh," Felix whispered, brushing his fingers along the edge of the helmet, almost tenderly. "You did agree to do this, didn't you?"

Locus didn't respond. He was still tense, his breathing quicker than before, but he didn't protest when Felix slid his helmet off and let it fall to the floor.

"God. You really need a shave."

It was always more fun when he could see Locus' face. Locus was always so expressive, if you knew how to read him, and of course Felix did. He stared up at Felix now, meeting his gaze steadily with those steely gray eyes of his, and tried desperately to hide his discomfort. Hah. Idly, Felix raised his hand to trace the lines of his scar, digging roughly into his skin. He couldn't feel it with the gloves of his undersuit still on, but he was already so intimately familiar with the feel of the scar tissue under his fingers that he didn't need to.

Locus' jaw tightened, but he didn't flinch away.

Felix darted to forward to press his mouth hard against his. God, he'd missed this. It was never as good with anyone else — no one else's body fit quite as perfectly against Felix's, no one else reacted in exactly the right ways. No one else understood the things Felix told him. Locus wasted no time in getting his teeth involved and Felix responded in kind, biting down on his lip until Locus groaned against him. Until Felix felt the laughter bubbling up in the back of his throat again.

"You taste terrible," Locus grumbled once Felix pulled away.

"Hey, you're the one who decided to wave a gun in my face, asshole."

Whatever Locus was about to say next was lost when Felix found the zipper to his undersuit and pulled it down to his navel.

"Aaah," he sighed, pressing his blade tenderly against the tendons of Locus' now bare neck. " _Much_ better."

"Be _careful_."

"Oh, Locus. When have you ever known me not to be?"

Locus opened his mouth, of course he did, but Felix swallowed the objection with his own, sliding his tongue between Locus' teeth before pulling away again to focus on his knife. It really was so much better like this, with the sharpness of his blade sliding over warm, smooth skin.

"Don't move. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, would we?"

Locus huffed irritably, but he went immediately still. He took orders so damn well, and it was so fucking glorious. It made something warm and tight clench in the pit of Felix's stomach, and he let his his attention narrow down to the point of the knife as it slid along Locus' collarbone and down his chest. His hands were steady now, the burning that coursed through his body quieter, and he could focus on the way Locus' skin dipped slightly under his blade, so close to breaking. But Felix knew what he was doing. He knew the outline of Locus' body, the contours of Locus' muscles almost as if it were his own — and it was, in a way, wasn't it? An extension of himself just like his knives, a deadly fucking weapon tuned to Felix's every need.

And now Locus wasn't breathing at all, nice and obedient and completely unmoving as Felix ran his blade along his chest, ghosting over his nipple and then down the muscles of his abdomen until it dipped into his navel and then up again, and it would take so little to nick his skin, just a flick of his wrist—

"Oh, _whoops_. I did tell you not to move."

Locus stared up at him, frowning, and Felix forced down the laughter that threatened to rise up in his throat. He ran a gloved thumb over the wound to smear the little beads of blood onto Locus' collarbone. In the low light it looked black rather than red, and it was a real shame that Felix couldn't properly appreciate the contrast of colors.

"Clean it up," Locus said.

"Aw." Felix leaned forward to flick his tongue along the wound. "You want me to kiss it better?"

He closed his mouth on Locus' skin and sucked lightly. The blood lingered on his tongue and for a moment he closed his eyes and let himself enjoy it.

Then he bit down.

A grunt of pain and Locus jerked upwards, but Felix pushed him down with a roll of his hips and began sucking. Locus ran a hand through Felix's hair and grasped it, hard. Pain coursed through Felix's body, electric and exhilarating; he shuddered and bit down harder in response, enough to break the skin, for the taste of blood to fill his mouth, salty and coppery. Locus twitched beneath him and Felix moved with him, pressing their bodies closer together until there was no space between them.

Locus' skin was feverishly hot now, his breathing deep and heavy, and all Felix could think about was how fucking good he'd looked with Felix's blade on his skin. Felix could have killed him like that, slid his knife between his ribs and watched him bleed out and Locus would have _let_ him, and god, the thought left him breathless and dizzy.

Fuck.

He pulled away from Locus' collarbone to crush his mouth against his, their teeth clicking together. He pressed his tongue against Locus' lips, insistent, and Locus yielded easily, allowing Felix to slide into the warmth of his mouth and let him taste his own blood. Felix was breathing hard, and Locus was too.

They were straight up grinding by now, bodies so close together, and it felt so good and it had been way too long — why _had_ it been so long? They'd both been so busy with Control's stupid war, that must have been it, and before that they'd been separated babysitting those idiot armies. He'd have to make up for it once they were done with this damn mission, bend Locus over a desk and fuck him thoroughly — or the other way around, he wasn't picky.

Another roll of his hips and Locus groaned a little against Felix's mouth, low and cut off as if he'd suddenly caught himself, and yeah, okay. Fuck it.

Felix jerked away from his partner, suddenly achingly aware of the tightness of his undersuit on his skin. He pulled off his gloves and shoved his zipper all the way down but it didn't help, everything was still itchy and suffocating and way too fucking hot, and he could barely even breathe.

He jammed his knife against Locus' neck.

"Get your gun," Felix ordered, and maybe his voice was somewhat breathless but it didn't matter, because Locus' eyes widened so delightfully at his words. He complied easily.

The pressure of the gun on Felix's temple helped a bit. It settled his nerves, gave him something to center himself on.

"Finger on the trigger."

Locus obeyed.

With a long, drawn out sigh, Felix unzipped Locus' undersuit as far down as it went and wrapped his fingers around Locus' cock. _Finally_. Felix hadn't planned to waste time getting his partner off at first, but screw it, he was twitchy and restless and turned on and he wanted to see Locus squirm. He gave Locus' cock a few quick strokes before reaching down to grab his own — _god_ , he was so fucking hard and it felt so _good_ — and then closed his hand around them both.

He wasn't gentle. He gripped hard and set a rapid rhythm straight away; it chafed, but Felix didn't care and Locus didn't complain. Locus' head jerked back into the mattress, a strangled groan leaving his throat, but his grip on the gun didn't waver. His eyes remained fixed on the spot where the barrel pressed against Felix' head.

Felix kept stroking, and as the pleasure began to build he let it drown everything else out, let himself focus on the friction of his palm, on the feel of Locus' erection against his own. On the background hum of the ship, the hardness of the metal on Felix's temple, the line where Felix's knife dug into Locus' neck. The way Locus' throat moved under it, in time with his rapidly rising breaths. God, he was so fucking breathtaking like this, panting and vulnerable beneath Felix. No one else would ever get to see him like this. He could act all commanding and unshakeable in front of others, but in the end it was always Felix who could bring him down this way, and the asshole had needed the reminder.

"Say my name," Felix growled.

"What—"

" _Say it._ "

"Felix," Locus gasped, and the sound of his name sent electricity jolting through Felix's body.

" _Again._ "

"Felix, Felix, _Felix_ —"

Locus stiffened and threw his head back with a quiet huff of breath as he came all over his stomach and Felix's hand. A loud thud echoed across the room as the gun fell to the floor.

Felix stroked him roughly until Locus shoved his hand away, panting, then he laughed and grabbed hold of his own cock. He was so close, dammit, and at this point he just wanted relief.

He felt a hand grasp his thigh and he pressed his knife harder against Locus' neck in response. Fuck, a little more pressure, a twist of his wrist, and he could slit Locus' throat right there and then. Would the thrill be as good as it was with anyone else? Felix gripped himself harder, the tension coiling through his body, pulling him taut. He could kill Locus, tear him open and paint the bed with his blood and maybe then he'd finally be free of all of this, of the restlessness and the nightmares and the things that the gateway had shown him—

Felix felt his stomach twist, the panic begin to rise up in his chest. He came so hard it almost hurt, with his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out his senses. Then, finally, he collapsed onto Locus's chest, buried his head into Locus' shoulder and tried to calm his heaving breaths.

When he opened his eyes again, Locus was watching him. A trickle of blood ran down his throat, Felix noted distantly, and the bite mark on his collarbone was beginning to bruise. He had an arm around Felix's shoulders, holding him close, almost as if they were back in those days a lifetime ago when they'd lie together in crappy hotel beds and hold onto each other because the war was over and Siris was gone and they had nothing else and — fuck, Locus was still staring, why was Locus staring at him, couldn't he see they were done?

Then Locus moved, almost hesitantly, and it was only when their lips brushed together that Felix realized he was trying to kiss him. Felix jerked back — what the _hell_ was wrong with that broken brain of his? — and turned away.

"Get the fuck off, _Sam_."

He spat out that name without thought, meaning for it to hurt. And it did, because Locus recoiled as if he'd been burned, shoved Felix off of him, and got up from the bed.

Good.

Felix stretched out on the now empty mattress. He watched from the corner of this eye as Locus dug around in his cabinet, pulled out a med kit, then turned back to contemplate Felix, a strange look on his face.

"It's only a temporary setback," Locus said after a moment. "Their defenses are lacking. We have enough men to overwhelm them and kill General Doyle."

"Yeah. Sure." Felix closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. "Hey, we should send Fuckface to lead the charge. If we're lucky he'll get himself killed."

Felix had expected Locus to argue. Instead, he simply said, "Fine." That strange tone was back in his voice, but Felix was too fucking tired to care.

He heard a door slide open and then closed again, quickly followed by the sound of running water. Asshole was going to hog the bathroom like a dick, apparently. Fine. Felix wiped his hand and stomach on Locus' sheets then buried his head into the pillow, still warm from Locus' body. His hands were still shaking, but at least it was easier to breathe now, with the afterglow and the exhaustion muffling everything else.

He reached out to grab the knife he'd dropped and held it tightly in his palm. For a moment he imagined it was a sword, flaring to life at his touch. Fuck, he'd feel better after this shit show of a mission was over. It would be, soon.

Yeah. They were going to come out of this on top. One way or another.

There was nothing they couldn't do when they were together, after all.


End file.
